Sweetened Pain
by CanadianPride
Summary: Nathan and Haley go to college with a beautiful baby boy and everything seems to be sailing smoothly. But when tragedy strikes Nathan and Haley must deal with the aftermath of their broken hearts.
1. Not Even Close

Author's Note: I just stared writing again recently so this might be a little rusty, sorry, but please bear with me. It'll get better, I promise!

Sweetened Pain

There was something in his voice. Some deep tone, and hint of a boy I used to remember. A laugh. The boy took shape. A chuckle. He appeared before me, his features defined, his face recognizable. An eighteen-year-old boy in a Raven's jersey, holding a baby, kissing his forehead. My image blurred and changed. A young man, the baby a toddler, the jersey now read DUKE. And then it faded.

I was scared to turn around. Scared to turn around and face my past, face the memories, face the pain. The room was brimming with light chatter, the clinking of wine glasses, and the scrap of chairs. I could slip out unnoticed, narrowly missing another collision with the forgotten. But my body was unable to move, my head and heart in and internal battle, both wielding weapons and shields. His voice sounded so close, as if he were whispering in my ear, my body shivered at the though and my neck strained with the pressure of not craning to take a peak.

"Haley?" I exhaled, not realizing I'd been holding my breath and looked up. Brielle had touched my hand and was starring at me intently, "Are you okay? You're really pale." I shook my head, my thoughts scattering and sat up.

"Brielle." She nodded, "Don't scream ok?" Another nod, "Nathan's at the table behind me." Her head shot up and I sighed sarcastically at my obvious friend. She spotted him, mostly from the dozen's of pictures I'd shown her.

"That's him?" she hissed between her teeth, flinging a slight nod his way. I nodded, sinking lower into my seat.

"We need to go," I mouthed to her, praying his wouldn't look up; yet hoping he would notice us. She started to collect her things and pushed herself back from the table.

"Ah. Mr. Scott if you would." And then he was there. Standing beside me in the flesh and blood, every piece of his that I'd ever loved. I cowered under him as he reached across the table to shake the professors hand. Brielle sunk back into her chair, gulping for air and fumbling with her hands. I couldn't look up, but his eyes were like magnets, drawing my slowly and steadily to his. A glance. I had stumbled through a blue window. I was looking into a reflection of everything that we had ever experienced together. He looked away, back to the boring professor and his dotingly young wife.

"Well sit down Scott." I groaned loudly. Inside of course. The only seat left available was right across from me, the perfect place for footsies and easily glances. He sat down, his frame coming into perfect view. He'd aged, just a fraction of an inch. But something, more masculine, not so boy like, a man that could finally fill out a suit. As he reached for the water glass his jacket arm slipped back, revealing a small cursived word. Zander. I bit my lip, hard, to keep from saying something. My lip quivered, anger rising in stomach, stretching down to my toes. Brielle was watching me out of the corner of her eye, nervous, I could tell the way her heels were furiously tapping the floor. I felt her hand on my knee, giving me a calming squeeze. His sleeve slipped back and I let go of my lip.

"Tell me Nathan, when are we going to see a win out of you?" Mr. Emery quizzed, apparently immersed in Nathan's basketball life, as was everyone else as this stupid convention. Why had I come? I knew he'd be here, never missing an opportunity to brag about his wonderful life. I didn't want to see anyone here, except Brielle, and I saw her everyday. The few teachers' I'd like had been freshman year, and none had bothered to show up.

"Soon I hope," he replied chuckling and shaking his head slightly, "Before I retire."

"Retire!" I glanced up at this. What was his talking about? He'd turned 26 three months ago and he was talking as if he's just hit 35. Retire? Nathan wouldn't retire until he had enough rings, or trophies, or whatever the hell they were, to brag about till he died.

"Just kidding sir. I'm looking for about another ten years of playing."

"Ten years?" The blond bimbo sitting beside her ancient husband managed to speak. I could see Nathan starring, and for some reason it didn't disturb me as much as I anticipated. "What about a wife? A family?" My heart jammed itself so far up into my throat I could feel my face burning red, my air supply lessening.

He shrugged, "Not interested. Trust me, I've walked that path before. No need for another trip." I looked away. I could feel his eyes tracing every curve of my body. I was not going to surrender to him, I was not going to cower or cry under his glare.

"What do you mean?" she asked. His gaze broke, and I turned back. Brielle was boring two deadly holes of her own into Nathan. I had to chuckle lightly, Brielle was always the type, and she wouldn't let me go down without a fight.

"Women. A woman. I've just decided there not for me. I like um, and sure, there are damn pretty to watch. But one you've got to keep hold of? Naw, that's for people like my brother. Two years married now, did you know that? Baby on the way." This took me by surprise. I had received no news that Lucas was having a baby. I'd been to the wedding in Florida, which had been the last time I'd seen Nathan, three years ago.

"No children I expect then?" Mr. Emery commented. Nathan shook his head, and I'd decided I'd had enough.

"Excuse me but we're going to have to go," I said quietly and politely while standing up. Mr. Emery and his wife thanked me and Nathan managed a small, but weak, smile. Brielle stood up, and shook their hands, before grabbing her purse and following me. Weaving between the tables I'd recognized faces that had aged. A grown up Amber had dropped the frizzing hair and teenage body for a grown up green-eyed beauty. David, the obnoxious class clown had dropped the fro and AC/DC t-shirts for formal attire, and a clean haircut.

And I was out. North Carolina was beautiful in the summer. The stars winked and the city sparkled with brilliance. I leaned back against the cool pavement of the building, my heart slowly calming. Brielle stood beside me, her face turned, watching me.

"He just-he just."  
"I know," she said rubbing my back, "That's why we stay away Haley. Because something changed. Somewhere along the line we changed, all of us. We aren't the same people we were back then Hales. Not even close."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry the first chapter is so short! Reviews would be much appreciated.


	2. Here You Me

Carved in a bench on top of a small hill are the words, "My friends are everyone I know." I can trace my fingers over it again and again, saying the words in my head, as a small sad smile reaches my lips at the memory. Before me is a head stone with a baby angel sit ting on top, its tiny wings spread out as it gazes down at the ground, guarding everything that has ever mattered to me. At the base someone has placed a bouquet of white roses; I have a faint knowledge of who it was. Over the last four years I have spent many hours sitting on this bench, something Nathan had engraved and placed here, staring at the name etched into the stone by professional hands and wondering what could have been.

My mother always told me that the "could-have-been" questions are what haunt us for the rest of our lives. They swallow us up and weave a web around our everyday lives, captivating our every move, every thought, until were so consumed we are no longer a soul. It used to scare me, and I remember vowing to never be swallowed up by these what -ifs. I realize now, sitting on that bench, that I'd let this happen without even acknowledging it. Like a toxic gas that crept under my door and seeped through the cracks in the windows, the what -ifs, the maybes, and could-have-beens have taken over my life. With alcoholism, drug addiction, or smoking they always proclaim that admitting you have a problem is the first step in solving it. With this, it's no such case. I have a problem, I want to solve it, but there is no answer. There is no treatment center, no gum or patches.

I've been to a hundred conventions and meetings and therapy groups where people talk about their losses, explain their feelings, seek aid from other victims. But most people end up leaving looking worse than when they arrived, and I almost always leave early. So I stopped going. I gave up on the hope of healing and moving on, and accepted the fact that I'll be forever plagued with the feeling of loss.

I won't sit here and list out the millions of qualities he had. I've tried, but it always never comes out like I want it to. It never really sounds like Zander. Maybe if you had known that boy you would understand, or maybe it's impossible to write down the true feeling of love. It's more than just a part of you missing, and it's more than loneliness. It's unexplainable, so I've given up trying.

I look down and my eye catches on the roses again. I remember how Nathan used to always buy them for me, never when I expected them, and always for a reason he never explained. My mind drifts to a memory from my past, like falling into a movie theatre, plumping down softly on the seat my mind shuffles before finding the exact moment.

_Letter from Karen, bill, bill, letter from the preschool, bill, invitation to office party, junk, junk, magazine. I'm sorting through mail on the counter, my eyes flicking to the clock counting the minutes till Nathan comes home. He's running a few minutes late, and Zander has been patiently waiting at the kitchen counter, the game board spread out and ready to play, for the last eleven minutes. I hear a key in the lock, and I can feel Zander waiting to spring from his seat, and wrap his arms around his father's leg, but yet, he wants to stay, catch his dad in a special surprise he thought of himself. The door closes and I can hear him taking off his shoes. Nathan's voice radiates through the house._

_ "Hal-Ow!" He yells, "Zander," he chuckles walking into the kitchen, pulling loose his tie and holding up a small blue toy car, "What did I tell you about leaving these around." He sets the car on the table beside him, ruffling Zander's hair, and planting a kiss on my cheek. He's holding white roses in his hand, and places them in front of me, watching my face to see my reaction._

_ "What are these for?" I ask, smelling them and looking up at him._

_ He shrugs, "I think you deserve them."_

_ "Daddy!!" He can hardly stand it anymore. I know Nathan's pretended not to notice the game board so Zander can have the satisfaction of explaining it to him._

_ "What Zand?" Nathan asks interested, while opening up the fridge._

_ "There's chicken bake casserole," I mention nodding to the oven. _

_ "Great, so what's up buddy?" he says picking up Zander and plopping him down on his shoulders. Zander giggles, Nathan's thumbs ticking his sides, making his blue eyes flash with excitement. I smile, watching, enjoying watching Zander and Nathan laugh. _

_ "We're going to play a game!" Zander finally manages to squeeze out between gulps of air and laughs. He's holding on to Nathan's head, his head flinging back, his body squirming._

_ "Oh really?" Nathan says pulling him back over and setting him back in the chair, "Can I be the green one?" he asks sitting down. His hand reaches back, lacing with mine as he pulls me toward him._

_ "Noo!" Zander says exasperated, "That's mine dad! You can be blue, and mom can be red. Because red's a girly color." I smile, leaning down to wrap my arms around his neck._

_ "A girly color?" I asked surprised._

_ "Oh yes," he replies, "Blue and green and maybe purple. And black and brown. Those are boy colors. And pink and red, yellow, orange, and light purple are girly colors."_

_ "Oh I see," I say chuckling and kissing Nathan's cheek, "Hear that dad? Girly colors." Nathan chuckles and eyes me with a knowing look. I remember when there were girly colors. The timer beeps on and I un-snake my arms from around Nathan's neck to retrieve dinner. As I take it out of the oven, letting it cool on the stove, I gaze at my boys. I couldn't imagine my life any other way. I was scared of having a baby, especially at eighteen. But this, this is what I've always wanted to do, be a mom and have a job I enjoy. And granted, yes, I got this a couple years in advance, I wouldn't be happier any other place. Except, maybe Tree Hill. _

_ "Haley?" I snap out of my thoughts and take a seat at the table. Candyland. God, I haven't seen this game in almost ten years! _

_ "Today, today while I was with D and we went and then-"_

_ "Ok, buddy, slow down, your talking to fast for mommy's ears," I said teasingly and tapped him under the chin. _

_ "Today while I was with Aunt Deb we bought this game!" he says with just as much enthusiasm but much slower. Nathan smiles and passes Zander the die. And so our game begins, Nathan and I stealing secret glances and toe touches as we convince Zander this is our favorite game. And so passes another day in our life, I used to take them for granted, always feeling like I needed to do something more, do something great. But I realize now that I was living life then, and it's a life I would pay anything to have back._

"Forever I shall keep you in my heart." I remember picking the words out forever ago, my tears staining the paper where I'd written it down. Nathan had picked the angel and I'd picked what it would say; Zander Nathaniel Scott. I turn away, looking up at the oak tree someone planted at the top of the hill, my eyes passing over the hundreds of other headstones marking the ground.

"Haley." My head snaps back, and the image of Nathan is hazy, tears dotting my cheek. He's standing there, another bouquet of white roses in his hand and I wonder how many times he's visited this spot, how many times he's tortured by the thought of that one autumn day, plagued by the what -ifs. He moves to sit down next to me, and I stand up. I haven't been this close to Nathan in almost four years. I can feel him watching me and for the first time in a long time, I don't care.

"I didn't realize…" he fades off, knowing no words can heal the old wounds he's sliced open again. I turn back, looking him in the eyes for the first time. I'm overwhelmed by the site, because staring at me is not the tall strong man the world sees, but the small weak boy who's still living half in the past, while trying to drag himself forward.

"It's alright," I reply, "You have just as much right as I do."

"I know," he nods, "But I didn't want to interrupt." Nathan always seems to have two faces; the way he acts to the rest of the world, and the way he acts to me.

"Interrupt what? I'm just sitting here. You're not interrupting anything." He can't tell if I'm angry or not and I can see him struggling with the right words.

"I'm sorry." I'm tired of hearing those words, especially from him. "Sorry for last night, I mean. I-I didn't know what to say. How do I answer that Haley? I don't want everyone knowing, staring at me, being easy on me… I don't need my life dissected on the front of every magazine, and I don't want that for you , either."

I shrugged, "You did fine. You could at least acknowledge that you've had a wife," I said moving to sit next to him.

He sighed, "Haley you know what would happen. They'd dig it up, find your name, the story, everything. Personally I'm surprised it's gone unnoticed this long. I was in my senior year when everything-" He stops abruptly, looking away from me and off into the distance. "Anyway. I'm just surprised they never found out."

"Promise they never will?" I used to love teasing him like that; making him make promises I know he'd never really be able to. But it was cute back then, and now I'm painfully reminded of the life we had and let crumble away.

"Haley, you know I can't promise anything like that. It's been four years and not a word. I'll pay them a million dollars if I have to so it's not flung it out there."

"I should go. How long are you in town?" I ask getting up

"Another day. I have to fly back to Phoenix tomorrow night. How 'bout you?"

"Monday morning. Brooke needs help running the store and all." He nods, and I can tell his mind has drifted to something else. I close in, placing a small kiss on his cheek, and give him a brief tight smile. I mosey down the hill, weaving between headstones, some visited regularly and some left without recognition. I turn at the base and stare back up at the hill. He's still sitting there, the flowers now laying next to the one's he'd previously laid down, his fingers lingering on the top of the stone.

Brielle is waiting in the car, crunching an apple, the last Harry Potter book propped open on the steering wheel.

"Didn't that thing end forever ago?" I ask.

She shrugs, "Yah, but I can't read it anywhere else. Brandon makes fun of me, or my mom does, or my brother does or-"

"Ok, I get it!" I laugh; Brielle always has a way of cheering me up.

"I saw Nathan coming through. Stopped by and said hi, how was it?"

"Fine. Wait, Nathan stopped by and said hi? He knew I was up there?"

"Well yeah. Asked me why I was here and I told him. You don't care do you?"

"No. No… No," I mumbled shaking my head, too preoccupied with my own thoughts. He had known, and he'd trekked up anyway. Brielle looked at me for a moment before stashing the book away and turning the car on. He'd known.


	3. I Need You

It's smooth. Like water, as if it could melt in my warm fingers and slip coolly through them if I didn't hold on to it. As my index finger runs around the inside, I feel the small inscription there, the small words scratched out of the metal, the only sign of flaw in the complete circle. A small single diamond rests perfectly in the middle.

I must have picked it up over a hundred times, but have yet to allow my fingers to slip and let it slid down onto my finger as I used to so many times before. When it officially ended , I almost chucked the tiny thing out. I got so close, even as close as to bury it in the backyard. A pathetic attempt if you will. But over time my heart healed, or at least I tried to convince myself it did. And I held onto it, like a picture you keep to remind yourself of another time in your life.

It's amazing, I think. Looking back I had always anticipated when we grew older I would receive something more expensive, more elaborate and delicate than the simple platinum band I'd received when we'd first been married. But when the occasion had arisen I'd turned it down without a single thought to the matter. The thing was, I had slowly fallen in love with the simple ring. It represented everything. Represented how I had fallen in love with a boy, not a wallet.

For a while, after I dug it up, I pushed it into the back of my drawer and attempted to ignore it, but eventually I let my heart overcome my mind and now it sits on my bedside table, in plain view most of the time. I remember Zander attempting to pull it off my finger, and when succeeding insisting I read the inscription inside, and then squirming at the words of his father. I smile now; thinking about how much Zander was like his father. Determined to be tough and rigid at one point, and then melted into my soft and gooey boy, begging for kisses and bedtime stories.

As I lay the ring down on the marble counter top I come to the realization that it no longer depicts my life. The complete circle is broken, beyond repair, and when I think of this a small tear wells in my eye. For months, even years after the life Nathan and I led ended I would sob at the thought, hole up for days at a time, speaking to no one, and refusing to live my life. But as time heals wounds, time also passes, and I acknowledged that my life would not simply stop whenever I wanted it too. Nathan moved on, and I know in a way it was his way of healing, pretending that everything was all right and refusing to break down.

So I moved on. I moved away from North Carolina, bought a house, and began my teaching career. And even though a day does not pass without me whispering a small pray er, or thinking of his smile, I have healed, in a way I never thought possible. I know I will always live with the shadow of loss, but I have come to terms with it. Seeing Nathan helped me in a way I could have never imagined.

"Hello?" I look up to find Brielle sticking her head through the top of my kitchen door; she smiles at me before opening the bottom half and stepping into my kitchen. She takes a seat beside me at the counter, surveying the mass piles of papers stacked up before me. "Grading papers?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Wow," Brielle chuckles, "I didn't realize second graders has so much work. You're tough Scott," she smiles nudging my shoulder softly, "Well. Brandon's watching baseball, so I decided to come spend the morning with you." I smile, setting down the paper I was working on and ultimately giving up on finishing the remainder of the work.

"I've been backed up since before the trip. These should have gone home weeks ago. Shouldn't you be working or something?" I ask.

She ignores my question, noticing the ring sitting on the counter beside me, "Haley. Are you ok ay? Because we've been home for a week and you haven't unpacked, you haven't answered any of my phone calls, and you got out your wedding ring. When we came home from the wedding you were fine in a couple of days and we were there for over a week. I don't know what to do Haley, because you always talk to me, so I don't know how to help if you won't tell me anything," she whispers frantically. Suddenly I feel guilty, because I always tell Brielle everything.

"It's nothing," I shrug, "I guess I'm finally healing Brielle." I can feel tears brimming in my eyes and I look up to meet hers, "I never thought I could, you know that, I thought this was going to take hold of me for the rest of my life. But seeing Nathan. . ." I faded off turning away from her and pushing the ring around on the counter. Brielle remains looking at me, studying me almost, and I can tell she's trying to figure me out.

I picked the ring back up; finally let it swivel down on to my finger. It felt so foreign there, like it had been made for someone else and I had found it. Well it had. Been made for someone else I mean. Because the person I was then is so far from the person I am now, they probably wouldn't recognize each other. It twist the ring around my finger, noticing that it still fits, and surprised by this.

"Haley?" Brielle whispers beside me. I look up again, a small smile gracing my lips.

"It's nothing Brielle, you know that, just thinking." Brielle used to be constantly suspicious that I'm going to become depressed. I laugh at this now, and I laughed at it then. The thing is, while I lost one thing, there's another thing that I still have, and that's Nathan. And while we may not be together anymore, I know that half of my, no, all of me is always going to love him . "I'm not depressed," I reassured her.

"I never said you were," Brielle replies, trying to play it off.

"I just miss him. That's all," I say, closing my laptop

"Who?"

"Nathan," I say pulling the ring off my finger, it doesn't seem to want to let go, and I feel that it's my heart talking to me, letting me know I'm not ready to let go. I leave it, deciding instead to ignore it till I have more time, and maybe a tube of Vaseline.

"Oh Haley," Brielle says, getting up and walking back into my kitchen, "We've gone over this remember? You're always going to miss him. For god sakes, you were married, and had a kid. Besides, he's still in love with you so-"

"What?!" Brielle looks startled at my outburst, like I was already supposed to have obtained the knowledge or something. Well, it certainly didn't sound like he was still in love with me at the reunion, or even at the memorial. The truth is, I can never tell with Nathan anymore. It used to be so easy, I could tell when he was longing for me, could tell just by the way his eyes lay on mine that he was so in love. But ever since we lost Zander it seems that I can't read him as easily as I used to, and that crushes my heart.

"Oh come on Haley, you're kidding right?" She says exasperatedly, "Did you see him at the reunion? Even at the wedding Haley. He can't keep his eyes off you! And I know what happened between you two is so damaging, I could never imagine it. But I bet you ten bucks here and now, that you're going to end up married to him again." I raised my eyebrows, digging deep into my pocket for money.

"Deal," I reply, slapping a ten down beside her, where she'd started to do my dishes, just as she always did. She looked up at me quizzically. She dried her hands, picked up the bill, flipping it a couple times, before storing it in her pocket, "Is there a time limit?" I teased elbowing her softly and opening the refrigerator.

"No," Brielle says, peeved at my sarcasm and obviously taking the bet as a serious matter. She flicked sud bubbles at me, causing me to squeal and hide behind the refrigerator door. "I'm serious Haley, you never think about it?" I peered back from behind the door.

"Never think about it? Brielle I think about it practically everyday, you know that."

"I mean getting married again, to Nathan," she explains.

"Brielle," I whine, grabbing a bowl of sweetened strawberries from the refrigerator before closing it, "Not really. Come on Brielle, you've been trying to hook me up with all of Brandon's friends for forever," I say snacking on the strawberries and setting them down on the table, "But this is the first about Nathan, what's the sudden change?" I ask curiosity getting the better of me.

"I don't know," she shrugs, drying her hands before picking a couple strawberries, "Just seeing him with you again. You've gone on a lot of dates Haley, but none we're like being at the reunion."

"Can we please stop talking about it now?" I ask desperately. Brielle nods, clearly identifying my unease and lack of enthusiasm about the topic. The truth is, I've thought a lot about getting back with Nathan, not that it would really ever happen, just what it would be like if I did.

The phone rang, rattling in its cradle where it had been nailed to the side of my kitchen wall. Out of habit, Brielle picked up the blue phone, tucking it under her chin and grabbing another strawberry, "Hello?" I waited patiently for Brielle to hand it over, "No," she chuckled, "This isn't Ms. Scott. Oh, me? I'm her personal slave, here she is," she roles her eyes, handing the phone over to me before continuing to devour the remaining strawberries.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Scott?" it's a deep growl, something that reminded me of a bulldog, "Hello, I'm Don Bruke, Jason's father. Well we received his progress report and we, my wife and I, would just like to thank you personally for your help with bring Jason back up."

"Oh! Mr. Bruke! It's no problem. Jason is a very bright boy; I think he was just getting distracted. I moved him away from all of his friends, which was hard, he's very social, and he got back on top of his schoolwork. In fact," I say, wandering over to the piles of work, "I just graded his last paper and he received top marks."

"Well thank you so much again! Have a nice day."

"Goodbye," I hung up, placing the phone back in its cradle.

"Parents?" Brielle asks, slurping up the sweet juice left behind. I nodded, "Makes you feel good huh?"

"Of course," I reply, I love getting phone calls like that, they make me realize why I get up everyday at five o'clock and drag myself to the tiny classroom, sitting in a cramped desk, and teach cranky kids.

It's hard sometimes, I guess, when I glance up at my classroom full of kids, to know that I will never experience the joy of having my child show my their newest picture, or explore the classroom at Open House. I'm alive in my classroom, filled with the joy of teaching young minds and opening up the doors to the worlds I cherished so much as a child. But when I go home, I find an empty house, perfectly clean, and I hate it that way. I want to open up my house and find spilled spaghetti sauce, and dishes from three days ago. All the beds unmade and the washing machine rolling with tons of tiny t-shirts.

"Haley." I glance up again, realizing that I've drifted off again without meaning too.

"Hmmm?"

"Oh never mind," Brielle muttered shaking her head.


	4. Hard To Explain

Authors Note: I apologize for the extremely long wait, and I hope there are still those of you out there who are reading this! For a while I completely disregarded this story, but woke up one day and remembered how I had vowed myself not to leave another story, and I mean ANOTHER story, unfinished. I put a lot into this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A boy, with a big yellow kite, his face scrunched in concentration, the sturdy hands of his father holding his own wobbly ones steady. The wind tugged at the kite, begging for control and power as the little boy back on the ground relies on his father to help. He lets out string, allowing the kite to whip higher into the air, performing cascading loops, almost as if it was enjoying watching the boy throws his head back in laughter, a large smiling gracing the lips of his father as he watches his son with joy.

I watch from a distance, a speck of life on the vast stretch of sand sprayed before me, the blue of the ocean crashing down onto the sand, flipping surfers like the wave of a hand. The ocean was beautiful, blue, like Zander's eyes, which made me smile to remember him running up and down the sand, Nathan dotingly running after him to save him from the monster of the ocean.

I was jealous of the life I watched. Jealous, not only for the man playing with his son, but for the woman sitting on the pink beach towel, thrown out casually onto the warm sand, and small pink baby sitting between her legs, leaning back on it's mother's body. I was jealous of her because she was able to watch the interaction of father and son before her eyes, playing out in real life, while I on the other hand had a movie in my head, and dreams in my sleep.

I wipe away a stray tear and turn away, I had planned my weekend exercise on the beach, but had found it far to crowded with sticky popsicle kids and their overbearing parents, carefully watching me, scared I would swoop down and pluck their child away before they could realize what had happened. So instead I ran above the beach, my eyes occasionally straying down to watch life unfold for the people below.

Brielle was leaning against my car as I approached, gulping down water from my bottle, and eyeing her with suspicion. She was dressed in business attire, which was a surprise to be, considering it was Saturday morning, and Brielle refused to work on Saturdays no matter what.

She read my mind, "Stupid people," she said answering my raised eyebrows. I unlocked my car, chucking my water bottle into the car and letting the cool air mix with the scorching hot inside my car, "Her mom didn't get the stupid wheelchair she wanted and so she was hinting that she didn't want our company to be responsible if she got a bed sore, bladdy blah blah, so I had to go fit her. Stupid bitch. Not the old lady, the daughter. Geezez, she's going to get a bedsore in two days?" I let her ramble on, testing the temperature of my car with rhythmically nodding my head to the sound of Brielle's voice.

"Wanna go to lunch?" I butt in, trying to get Brielle to peter out of her ramble. She stops talking for a moment, contemplating the idea, before checking her watch.

"Sure, Brandon dropped me off, the car's in the shop and he's supposed to pick me back up in an hour or so, I can call him. Where should we eat?" She asks dropping her briefcase into my back seat. I shrug, I didn't really care, I just wanted to talk to Brielle about the wave of emotions I'd been experiencing since I saw Nathan again, "Well I'm feeling Mexican, and since you apparently have no opinion I guess that's where were headed."

We ended up at a sidewalk café, which served all types of food, including tacos, which Brielle could survive on entirely if it were possible. She ordered us drinks, warily watching me as I subconsciously viewed the throng of people straggling by on their way to ballet classes, or off to catch the latest movie. She sipped her drink a couple times, and trying to start a side conversation without any luck.

"I can't stop thinking about Nathan," I say abruptly turning toward her. She chocks slightly on her drink, and tries to cover it as a cough. She stares of into the distance for half a second before taking another sip of drink and turning toward me.

"In what kind of way. In a jump his bones kinda way, or in a I wish he was dead type of way or in a-"

"A I wish we were still married type of way," I interrupted. I could tell she was trying to show no reaction to my sudden outburst, but failed in her attempt when she sighed heavily, and rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger, "Don't look at me like that!" I whine quietly, dunking my lemon farther and farther down into my glass with my straw and ignoring Brielle's sigh.

"Your impossible Haley James," she chastises, shaking her head, "I don't even know what to say to that. It took over a year for your divorce to finally finalize, and you couldn't have had this revelation then?" I can tell she's teasing me slightly, hoping she'll be able to wedge herself between the lips of my clamshell heart.

I smile meekly, "I don't even understand it," I say sitting up straighter and abandoning my straw, "Before I saw him again it wasn't like this. Yeah, I thought about him like hell, about everything that happened and how we fell apart, and sure, my mind wandered to what it would be like if we'd stayed married, but I've never wanted it before Brielle, I never hoped, wished, that we still were! What's wrong with me Brielle?"

Apparently I had unleashed the confession of a lifetime when Brielle was least expecting it. I didn't blame her, I'd been holding this all inside for almost two weeks, going to work everyday with a plastered on smile, which second graders easily lapped up, just like the lapped up candy, without a second glance. Brielle bit the corner of her lip, a tiny smile playing on her lips, I knew she was about to tease me again, so I leaned back in my chair.

"I so told you you two would get married again!" she cried poking her salad fork my way. I rolled my eyes, tuning my ears out as Brielle continued on her long ramble, talking about the way Nathan looked at me, the undeniable friction between the two of us, how long it would be till Nathan came knocking on my door, four to six weeks, she reckoned

"Brielle," I interrupt, which makes it clear I wasn't listening, "Just because I wish we were married again doesn't mean we're going to. Nathan will not show up at my doorstep, and the reason there's friction between me and Nathan is because we were married for seven years." Brielle grins mischievously, sipping on her drink without saying a word, knowing it will anger me more than her mindless rambling does.

We finished lunch, avoiding the topic of Nathan, and instead relying on each other to fill in the space with light chatter, we talked about the clients Brielle couldn't stand, the kids in my class who somehow managed to crack me up every single day, even when I was determined to remain cold hearted and submit myself to a depressing day. I was still wearing the ring, and had been for the last two weeks when Brielle had found me in my kitchen with it on, and truthfully, I had yet to attempt to yank it off, and instead had resorted to letting the minds of people around me wander, besides, I told Brielle, it fended off desperate men in the frozen food section in the evening.

We headed to my house, since, according to Brielle, her condo smelled like paint and nachos. My house, which was cleaned weekly by Merry Maids, smelled like vanilla beans, or whatever they sprayed all over the place before they left. Brielle immediately hit my apple shaped cookie jar on the counter, digging her hands deep inside and rummaging around, reminding me of a five year old. Brielle could probably eat of the entirety of McDonalds and gain barely half an ounce, while, ever since my pregnancy, I'd had to watch myself carefully, even though Nathan had claimed to find my more attractive pregnant than thin.

Brielle glanced at the clock, before spitting the cookie out of her mouth hastily, "Shit," she mutters grabbing for her purse, "I was supposed to meet Brandon to pick out more paint chips," she cries, looking at me with a silent plea in her eyes. The last time I had trusted Brielle with my car I'd never seen it again, as she's taken a sharp turn on a corner and ran into a stop sign, destroying my car.

I sighed, "Do you promise-"

"I promise I promise!" she hastily added, snatching the keys I held out from my hand and planting a kiss on my cheek, "I love you!" she calls flying out the door. I listen as she starts up the car, and eye judgmentally as she backs out of my driveway. The truth is, the car isn't really mine either, same with the house. Please, like I could afford such a nice place, equip with Merry Maids on a teachers salary. Nathan had paid for everything, and continued to even after we divorced. It had never bothered me before, but for some reason in that instant it did.

Why? I mean, I know we'd been married. But no divorcees I knew of felt the need to continue to pay house payments, and basically everything else. I felt weak, like a kid lost in a giant department store, I'd never thought about it before, but it was like I still needed him, and sure I did, I still kept my ring on, and wished I was still married to that damn man, but there was no way in hell he was supposed to know about all that, to him I'd moved on, was on my own, and didn't need him anymore.

My hand reached for the phone, my fingers numbly punching in the number I had memorized by heart ages ago, slowly lifting it to my ear, the monotone dialing.

An hour and a half later my fingers had literally become numb, the number pad on my phone practically getting a workout from the number of times I'd dialed the number. The phone line was for Nathan's personal phone, and I was probably driving him to near insanity, considering his phone and probably rung close to fifty times, only getting close enough to hear the click as someone picked up, but clicking off before I could hear anyone's voice.

I didn't know what to say, what do you say? Oh hey Nathan, um, could you stop paying my house bill, because I don't want to seem like some desperate ex-wife whose using your money, not like you don't have enough of it, but I don't need it anymore, because I'm way over you, thanks. It sounded pathetic. I'd wanted to come out sounding defiant, confident, say something sassy and classic, but I knew deep down that that would never happen, those things happen to the right girls in the right movies, who somehow think up just the right thing to say when something doesn't go their way.

I picked up the phone again; leaning back into the overly stuffed chair and without looking dialed the number, leaning the phone against my ear a sighing heavily. This was it; I was going to do it. I'd been telling myself that for and hour and a half, but it's worth a try. I was desperately hoping Nathan would refuse and keep paying for everything, because I could barely afford my house payment with the salary I had now.

The ring-tone played harmonically in my ear, almost like my personal theme song.

"Hello . . . .is anyone there?"

I slammed the phone down, standing up frantically and dropping the phone behind me on the couch. Nathan's personal phone, the one that sat beside his bed, I knew it, I used to be the one who answered it all the time, in the morning when Nathan would roll over and cover his head with a pillow, I would be the one, the woman in his life, answering it.

And now there is another woman in his life, and she is answering it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Please please please please please review! It only takes a couple seconds and I would really enjoy hearing what you think of my story, even it is critical, everything helps, thank you so much for reading my story, even if you don't leave anything.


	5. Can't Find You

Authors Note: First off I'd like to thank all of your who are continuing to read my story and review it, it helps so much and keeps me excited about this story!! This has probably been the story I've taken the most time on, which is why I believe it's better than and of my others, if you don't mind me saying. Second, this chapter has NOT been edited yet, I will probably be editing it soon, but I was so excited I had to put it up so you could all read it! Thanks, and loves, Brooke.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What did she say again?" Brielle drills me for at least the fiftieth time. I sighed heavily, and answered her question instead of fighting it like I normally would. I will still in such a state of unbelievable shock that I didn't have the energy to yell at Brielle. She'd be questioning me for the last twenty minutes, since she and Brandon arrived, about my conversation, if you could call it that, with the mysterious woman on the other end of the phone. I couldn't imagine how she'd been able to acquire so much information from three short words the woman had spoken to me, but somehow she had.

Brandon watched amused from the kitchen table where he was busy with a plate of brownies and a tall glass of cold milk, his eyes tracing Brielle's body as she paced back and forth in the living room before me. I liked Brandon, he was Brielle's opposite, and it reminded me of Lucas and Brooke. Brielle was uptight, organized, and defiant, while Brandon was laid back, a tad sloppy, and an all around go with the flow kind of guy, which was clearly displayed here. He didn't seem worried about the woman on the phone, while on the other hand Brielle had gotten off work earlier, just a half-an-hour, to rush over to my house and counsel me. So far Brandon was doing a better job.

"Did she sound young?" Brielle fires another shot my way, a question that actually made me think, instead of repeating the three words again.

I pause, "Probably our age," I reply, going back to chipping the Rosy Red nail polish of my fingers and admiring Brandon's relaxed state in this situation.

"It could have been the maid," Brandon pipes up, dunking his fat chunk of brownie into his milk and wrapping his mouth around it with perfection, the brownie plunging into a cavern of darkness. Brielle stopped suddenly, her face lighting up.

"That's it!" she cries. Wow, I shake my head, Brielle's been thinking over possible excuses for the last twenty minutes of them, some going as wild as to say he and his professional nutritionist were having a meeting, Nathan went to grab a healthy snack, and she snatched up the phone, and somehow Brandon has managed to sum it all up with one answer. Brielle looked at me hopefully, expecting my full recovery.

"I've had Merry Maids since I've lived in this house, they don't answer phones, it's actually in their contract. No maid is going to answer a NBA all-star's phone Brielle, even I know that," I say. Brielle sighs, plumping down onto the couch beside me, her head in her hands.

"Why don't you just call and ask?" Brandon says from behind the refrigerator, he's gotten up not and is busily rummaging through it's contents. Brielle sends him a icy look over her shoulder.

"Just ignore him," she whispers, which I do. To guys everything is simple, if this had been the other way around, and my phone had been answered by a member of the opposite sex, Nathan would have called back and demanded to know who it was, just like I knew he would.

And yet as I think about this, rolling it over in my mind, I wonder if he really would. Or would he simply place the phone down calmly, relieved I had taken another step in my life and moved on? My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Brielle slams her fist down on the table, causing me to jump.

"I'm going to call him." She's also been saying that every five minutes as well, I roll my eyes, knowing that she won't and get up from the couch, crossing to the kitchen. Brandon is busy preparing one of the world's largest sandwiches, something you expected out of a Blondie cartoon. Brielle sat down on the couch, folding her arms across her chest and fuming. She appeared more interested in the mystery woman than I did.

Brandon, who is wiping mayonnaise and mustard of his face, speaks up, "Look at it this way babe, even if we did, by some miracle, find out who that mysterious woman was-" Brielle's lip curls in disgust as Brandon playfully adds a Halloween touch to 'mysterious woman', "what could Haley do about it? Yeah, she'd know, but he and Haley are divorced, I mean, she can't really do anything," he says turning back to his sandwich, "No offense Hales."

"None taken," I pipe, glad that Brielle was across the room, and I would at least have some reaction time if she decided to murder her boyfriend in my freshly cleaned kitchen.

"Your," she growled slowly, "not helping!" she raged stocking off into my bedroom and slamming the door so hard my picture frames rattled. Brandon looks up from his sandwich, sighs, and sets it down, a forlorn look in his eyes, as if he suspects he'll never see it again.

"I better. ." I nod, and he strides across to the bedroom, turning the handle.

"Just don't do the nasty nasty," I crack, already picking apart his sandwich. He looks back at me, a sad smile on his face. I can tell he feels bad for Brielle blowing up when we were supposed to be comforting me, but like him, it's just something I've gotten used to.

_Brii-ii-ii-nn-ngg Brii-ii-ii-nn-ngg, _the second time I shot straight up in bed, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and focusing on the clock. 1:17 it read in giant block red letters as I threw back the blankets and cut a clear path to the phone. The one nice thing about a uptight clean house was there was never any late night swearing after stubbing a toe or banging a knee.

"Hello?" I knew my voice sounded groggily and cracked, but whoever had decided to call this late could get the hell over it.

"Haley?" Suddenly I wished I'd taken a drink of water before answering. I sat down in the kitchen chair, my back straight and rigid.

"Nathan," I whisper, felling my tiredness set back in, "It's one o'clock in the morning, I hope someone died or something."

"Oh shit," he mutters, "Sorry, forgot about the whole time thing. I eye the clock again, barely after ten there. He's probably had plenty of time to prepare and contemplate this conversation, while I'd gotten dragged out of bed, and my voice sounded like a man.

"Whatever."

"Well, now that I've got you, I believe you might have called me?" he chuckles a little at this, and I found myself defensive and annoyed with it.

"A couple times maybe," I shrug, as if he could see my motions

"62 times Haley," he sighs, and I could hear him shift around on the bed, clearly uncomfortable, "62 times," he muttered, as if reminding himself.

"Sorry," I reply, "Did I interrupt something?" I add bitterly.

"What?" I hadn't meant to say it loud enough for him to hear, but apparently I couldn't control my voice, well, what else was new, "Yes, you kinda did Haley, for over an hour you drove me and Jessica-" And just like me Nathan had said one thing too many. I jumped on the name like an animal on it's prey, diving deep into my past, searching out any Jessica that I or Nathan had ever known, all the way back to first grade when Jessica Harpin squirted CapriSun on me because I stole her scissors. She could be anyone, I realized, it wasn't that hard for seventeen year old Nathan Scott to get a girlfriend, 26-year-old NBA All-Star and leading points Nathan Scott must have had them lined up at the door. I remain silent on the other end, willing Nathan to be the first one to speak again, "Anyway-"

"Nathan Daniel Scott don't you dare anyway me," I threatened. Anyway had been Nathan's go to word when a situation got awkward or uneasy and he wanted to move it along as quickly as possible. I had called him out on it during the few major, and many minor fights we had throughout our marriage.

"Haley, I, um."

"You have a girlfriend?" I ask, "Just tell me Nathan, it's not against the law or anything. I wasn't expecting you to be tied down by this burden forever. Most divorced people barely talk unless they have children."

"It's not a burden," he says, "And yes, I have a girlfriend. I'd been meaning to tell you- ah, what the hell, no I wasn't. I'd been meaning to keep it from you for a long long long long time," he chuckles, "I just-"

"It doesn't matter," I reply slowly, "It's your life Nathan, like I said before."

"I know. So what did you call so many times for?" he asks. I had almost completely forgotten about the issue that had sparked this long evening, and early morning.

"Nothing," I say, "It's not important now, I can barely remember, and it was stupid to begin with. I should go, Brielle and Brandon are over, and I'm sure you have to get to bed soon, some big game coming up right?"

"Yeah, I should go. Goodnight, I mean good morning Hales." I chuckle into the phone before saying goodnight and clicking off. I set the phone back on the counter, and sit there in the complete silence and darkness, my eyes almost closed. It wasn't like I hadn't expected this to happen, Nathan was attractive, funny, famous, social, and barely twenty-six. I hadn't anticipated he would go on for the rest of his life single, just like I wasn't ready to go on with the rest of my life single.

"Haley?" I turn quickly to find Brandon standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes vigorously and yawning, "Why are you up?" he asks, drawing out a yawn, and stumbling for a seat beside me.

"Nathan called," I say, playing with me hands in my lap and avoiding eye contact.

"At twelve o'clock in the morning?" Brandon asks, folding his arms on the table and lying his head on them, "What a jackass."

"He forgot about the time difference," I explain.

"Still," Brandon says, "He should be used to thinking about it, considering he jets all over the country practically everyday." I know he's right, but instead of trying to cover up another of Nathan's many mistakes I get up, opening the fridge to dig around inside. Brandon's watching me, we've never had a conversation like that before, one that actually meant something besides yelling about how bad that Packers have been doing since Brett Favre finally retired. Digging deep into the freezer I emerge with two ice creams bars, chucking one at Brandon so it hits him in the chest, and ripping open the package of mine and stuffing it into my mouth so I don't have to think of something to say.

"You alright?" I shrug. I don't really know anymore is what I'd like to answer, but instead I carefully peel the chocolate coating of my bar of with my teeth. Do you remember when you were little, and you used to come home from school and your mom would sit you down with some nutritious snack and ask about your day, pretending to be completely entertained by your explanation of your finger painting picture, only you thought she really was interested because you were too young to understand the art of parenting. You may not, you may be too old, or your mom wasn't that kind of mom, or you try purposefully to block out those childhood memories. But for those of you who do, I was the best thing wasn't it? To have your mom's complete and undivided attention, not matter how short, so you could tell her anything you want and she would still love it? Where you didn't have to fight for her attention, but she actually gave it too you?

And then slowly as you got older, that time starting dwindling away, you started dreading it more than you looked forward too it, your mom went back to work, you'd answer with a simple "fine" and slug off to your room to concentrate on homework, or call your best friend to dissect what Johnny Cillinger had meant when he'd said "What's up" in the hall that morning. You started being grateful your mom didn't pry into your life anymore. I remember that, growing older, being more independent, and deciding my future for myself. I don't think being married at 16 was what my parent's had planned for me.

And then I lost Zander, and I got divorced, and I seemed to tumble back in age. I tumbled back to the days where my daily schedule was talked about and questioned by Brielle and Brooke, when she was here after everything happened, somehow the two of them made conversation with my about anything and everything, asking about me day, how things were going, did I need to talk, eat, cry, scream, sleep, drink? I felt like I was five again, having my pancake sliced up by my mother again so I didn't get hurt with the knife. I hated it, even though I knew I wouldn't have survived without the two of them there, Nathan was off in his own world, dealing with his problems however he could, I wanted to be able to handle myself.

"Haley?" I snap out of my daze to realize I've been starring at my slowly melting ice cream bar in my hand. Taking a lick I get up from the kitchen table, place a kiss on Brandon's head, and toss my Popsicle stick into the garbage can.

"I'm good, don't worry," I say smiling at Brandon before returning to the couch.

"Alright," he replies uneasily before getting up and heading back into the bedroom.

My mind slowly drifts back, to a one of those off days following the accident, down to the precise minute actually. I don't know why I remember, maybe because I'd randomly glanced at the clock while Brielle and Brooke whispered frantically in the kitchen. Or maybe because my head registered the time of something so major without me even realizing, but I remember. 6:27. I got up from the couch, went into the kitchen, and asked Brooke to leave.

It's mesmerizing, looking back now, at how calm and composed I was then. Anything I'd said before then had usually been started or followed by tears, screaming, and the slamming of doors. But this time I didn't even struggle with the right words, I simply got up, crossed the room to the kitchen where Brielle and Brooke had broken their conversation quickly and were standing silent, waiting for me, and told Brooke I wanted her to leave, not just the house, but the state, I wanted her to go home and leave me alone.

I probably think of it often because besides Zander's death and my divorce, It was the biggest thing in my life that I regret. Because I've never heard from her since, I saw her at the wedding, but we didn't speak a single word to me. Our eyes met briefly while she sat up at the bridal table, but we've yet to say a single word since that day when I told her to leave. Not a single word.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Reviews would be lovely!


End file.
